


Cruor Caedis

by Jeneva



Series: Bone, Blood and Bodies [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Death, Enthusiastic Consent, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Ghouls, Historical Fantasy, Historical References, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Romance, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Supernatural Elements, Undead, Vampires, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-07 17:18:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11628234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeneva/pseuds/Jeneva
Summary: Part two in the "Bone, Blood and Bodies" Series. Rhosyn E. Dhent has been working for MI13 for nearly three years. Having exceeded all of the Director's expectations, she is assigned on a mission to Continental Europe to hunt down and destroy a revenant. But she does not go alone. After years avoiding her old customer, she must not only deal with the hunt of the undead, but also the growing discomfort of working with one of history's most prolific of monsters.





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't already, read "Tomes and Tombstones" which is the first part of the series.

London had a certain something about it that was unmistakable. That was it. Rhosyn couldn't assemble much more of an opinion on the city. She had found it neither overly hostile or overly attractive to possess any particular sentiment towards the place. It had never really been comfortable for her. But as she stepped out of the underground and onto the sidewalk, Rhosyn imagined she felt the inkling of being home.

Talbot Square had the usual buzz about it that made it busy enough to always have foot traffic without being too oppressive. The short walk from the station to the shared flat was calming; a good stretch for the legs. Her suitcase was light and her hair was a mess from the airplane ride and an hour spent communing from the airport to Paddington. But the wind was cool. Her feet ached only a little at the top of the apartment stairs.

“I’m back.” She called as she edged her way into the flat she shared with her coworker. It was immensely cheaper to share, but money wasn’t really the issue. In their line of work, it was comforting to have someone in the flat with you.

Rhosyn stopped short when she noticed Laurel sprawled on the couch, fast asleep. Rough day, by the look of all the reports and paperwork strewn about the living room. Rhosyn edge the door closed with her foot and carefully made her way to her room to shower and unpack.

She had barely set down her suitcase when the phone rang.

“Hello?” She frowned, irritated as she rubbed the toe she stubbed in the mad dive to get phone before Laurel woke.

“You’re back.” It was the Director. Rhosyn swore that woman had her tracked to the minute.

“I just got in.” She kicked off her sweaty shoes and stretched out on the bed, letting out a long sigh. The Director continued.

“Did you have a nice vacation?” It was stiff but Rhosyn new the effort was genuine. Despite what folks in the ministry said, Director Fairburn did care about her personnel. Care happened to come in the form of bonuses and excellent office biscuits rather than kind words but Rhosyn appreciated it. It was necessary after all.

“Yes,” She started working on toeing off her socks, immediately shoving her feet into the carpet. “Smooth traveling.” The director hummed.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Pleasantries over. “Don’t unpack, I need to see you in my office first thing tomorrow.” Rhosyn screwed her eyes shut and nearly groaned.

“I’ll be there. Anything I should pack for?” An away assignment was not ideal after 13 hours of plane travel. Rhosyn felt her muscles cry out as she twisted her spine.

“Plan for a few weeks by train. Be mobile but blend in.” She paused. “Keep your clothing nice enough to fit in at a dinner but don’t get fancy.” Rhosyn chuckled.

“Have you known me to ever get ‘fancy’?” The Director managed a laugh as well.

“I am sorry to put this on you but it is quite urgent we get moving. Your ticket is for the day after tomorrow. The sooner you come in and see me the sooner you have to prepare.”

“Right, tomorrow then.” Rhosyn listened for the click of the phone before hanging up. Again, she shut her eyes and just laid in silence, listening to the street noises and the squeal of that one pipe to the right of the headboard.

 _Get up get up get up_. She chanted. Her body did not budge. It took a moment for her brain to get used to the idea that lying down was the ultimate plan and dinner could wait. She didn’t even bother to set her feet on the bed as she dozed, content in her stupor.

“Rhosyn?” Laurel’s quite voice made its way through the doorway, followed by a knock that sent Rhosyn bolting upright.

“Here.” She slurred. She was more tired than she realized as she stumbled to the door and opened it. Laurel looked tired but smiled brightly.

“Welcome back!” Rhosyn was drawn into a gentle hug. “I didn’t hear you come in.” Rhosyn joined Laurel in the living room and sat at the bar counter as her coworker set about making some tea.

“I just go in.” Rhosyn yawned midsentence and looked back at the table. “You look swamped.”

Laurel groaned. “Annual reports are coming up. Do you have any idea how much money you lot blast through? It’s practically treason.” Laurel huffed and started sorting through to find just the right tea for a pick-me-up. Rhosyn laughed and let her head slid onto the counter.

“I will trade you. Fairburn is sending me out day after tomorrow.” Laurel was quiet for a minute. The clatter of tea cups was all that could be heard.

“How long?” The mood had lowered. Rhosyn felt it sink into her bones.

“She said a few weeks. By train so I’m guessing I’m head to the continent.” She rubbed her hand over her face roughly to get the blood flowing. “I don’t know why I’m not flying.”

Laurel pulled the kettle off the stove just as it began to whistle. “Maybe for the supplies?” Rhosyn shook her head. She figured guns caused more problems then they were worth. When it came down to it, a truncheon with a silver blade and some scent bombs were enough. Anything else was just troublesome.

“It’s not because you’re afraid you’ll miss, is it?” Cerys was a cheerful woman and the best shot of the division. She had taught Rhosyn to clean, load, dismantle, and shoot a variety of guns but Rhosyn hated it. They made her nervous and if she was nervous she would be an easy target.

“No, maybe it's the budget.” Rhosyn teased while unwrapping a biscuit. Laurel set the brewed tea before them and looked deep into the cup.

“We are strapped.” The admission was very solemn. Rhosyn knew that funds had been cut but it really wasn’t her department.

“How bad?” She asked. Laurel looked away.

“We had to let go of Morris and Jane.”

“Fuck.” Rhosyn swore and angrily sipped her tea, burning her tongue. She was too mad to really care. “What the fuck does Rowland think he is doing?” Laurel sighed.

“Maybe he thinks we can all run on tea and silver lanced cudgels. Cerys is having a fit over the low-quality ammunition. Only 0.2% silver per round.” Laurel stirred their cup and frowned.

“Might as well smack them with a fucking feather duster.” Rhosyn remembered to blow on the tea before taking another drink. “I can’t believe Fairburn hasn’t skinned the House yet.”

“She is probably planning on it.”

They spent the evening trying to talk about more cheerful things. Rhosyn recounted her trip to America to visit family and some friends. It had been a nice few weeks and she had been ready to leave. There was only so much patience one could have in their parent’s house. Laurel revealed a newfound interest in stand-up comedy and had been out nearly every night trying to catch a show. Anything to lighten the mood.

It was late when they finally fell into a comfortable silence, Laurel, stretched out on the floor with a plate of mostly eaten biryani and Rhosyn slumped on the couch, staring out the window. She couldn’t see the stars and it made her feel boxed in.

“Hey,” She nudged Laurel’s ribs with her foot. Laurel groaned. “I’ll clean up, you head to bed.” Laurel mumbled something in response and stayed put. Rhosyn set about cleaning up the take out, packing away the meals for tomorrow. Who knows when she could eat something that wasn’t travel snacks and peanuts.

A train. She hoped she could at least get some leg room.

* * *

 

Getting to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office was not hard. On the outside, it was a one of those grand administrative buildings that filled the area around Buckingham Palace and Westminster halls. The war halls and museums filled the governmental sector. Tourists milled about, intrigued and unaware of what lay beneath their feet.

There was rumor that there was no underground beneath this section because it all caved in during the blitz. That wasn’t the entire truth. Beneath the obligatory preserved bunkers and basement lay something far more extensive and secure. MI13, also known as the Catacombs, occupied the labyrinth of old WWII bunkers, Victorian Era sewers, and new construction. It was well hidden and so insulated that even the furious rumbles of traffic couldn’t pierce the layers of concrete and metal.

The guards to the upper floor of the Foreign and Commonwealth office knew Rhosyn by looks. She still had to show her identification to pass. Once inside, she side stepped the mob of sightseers and dipped into the Lavender Room.

“Good morning.” Rhosyn smiled at Sybil as she went to the special elevator. The guard checked her card again and had Rhosyn press her hand to a shiny silver panel. After that she was allowed in. But this time she didn’t go up. Director Fairburn had her office on the fourth floor in a place where she could conduct all of her business without tipping the ever-changing parliament members off to what lay beneath the sprawl of buildings. But the Director had specifically said to use the under-office. This meant no parliamentary observers. Just the Graveyard Crew.

Rhosyn didn’t bother to stifle her yawn. Jetlagged and stiff, she wasn’t thrilled to be at work. The elevator chimed its arrival on subfloor B. Security was different down here and Rhosyn waited as she was patted down, fingerprinted and had sprayed with salt water.

“God, Daniel, right in my eyes?” Rhosyn hissed and rubbed at the stinging feeling. Demetri chuckled.

“Just being sure.” He wiped the ink off of Rhosyn’s forefinger. “Geez you look like shit.”

“Fuck off.” Rhosyn griped while walking past the guard. Daniel was one of those people that liked her, but utterly rubbed Rhosyn the wrong way. Most days she could tolerate him but today was not the day.

“The earlier the better.” Rhosyn muttered sourly as she waited outside of the under-office. Fairburn was in a meeting. Early was right. Rhosyn took the moment to tuck into her chair and shut her eyes. Just a little light dozing wouldn’t hurt. The secretary’s hectic typing was the only other sounds in the room and Rhosyn was nearly asleep when—

“Good morning.” Rhosyn stilled, her eyes shooting open to meet the fabric of her pants. She had gone to great lengths to avoid the owner of that voice. She had been successful for the last five months. It had been bliss.

She stiffly raised her head to look at the person who greeted her. Same eyes, she noted, deep and cool. That expression always reminded her of someone who just woke from a pleasant nap. A far cry from her sleep-deprived appearance.

“Morning.” She nodded. She managed to make it look like she was making eye contact, but really, she was looking at that gently hooked nose. She didn’t bother to unfold herself on behalf of her most _unwelcome_ companion.

The source of her discomfort nodded slightly and moved off to sit on the other side of the office door. Everything movement was languid and relaxed. Catlike and easy. Rhosyn felt like a ball of tightly wound thread as she started following the woodgrain in the secretary’s desk. That looks like a nose, a bat, the Tower, the---“

“The Director is ready for you.” The secretary looked over and Rhosyn made to stand, knees popping as she did. She had just made it to the door when she noticed that uncomfortable figure standing with her, just far enough away to be polite. She eyed the shadow as her hand hovered over the door.

“Do you need to speak with the director?” Rhosyn wondered if she misread the secretary’s gaze. She could wait.

“Yes.” That same cool voice washed over her ears. Rhosyn grasped the handle and pushed. The door swung open and she stood to the side, leaving plenty of room. Again, she avoided those dark eyes and waited to be passed. An elegantly cut sleeve lifted before her, gesturing to the office within.

“After you.”

“Thanks.” Rhosyn sucked in a quiet breath and stiffly moved into the room, keenly aware of the presence following behind her and shutting the door.

Director Fairburn was hunched over her desk, hand in her loose, dark hair and a cigar hanging out of her mouth. Rhosyn hated the stench of the thing and wished she’d abide by the fucking building code. She supposed, in the end, everyone in this department had their unhealthy habit. A coping mechanism if a foul-smelling one. Honoria didn’t look up as her two operatives stood opposite her, poised and waiting for orders. She took her time, letting Rhosyn choke on the stench before she extinguished the cancer-causing thing into an over-used ashtray.

“Good timing.” She muttered cheerlessly. A black folder appeared on the desk with a red seal on the front.

Revenant, high priority.

“I called you here for a special assignment.” Honoria flipped open the file and pushed two identical pages towards them. Rhosyn picked up the page and scanned it through her too-tired eyes. This was unusual. The evidence was slight, so slight it could have easily been missed. Akoni must have caught it.

“Budapest?” Rhosyn asked before she flipped the page. Honoria nodded.

“It hasn’t been obvious but there are strong signs of a revenant. Our contact in Budapest has made it his mission to collect any and all evidence available to him. While much of what he has collected is utter trash,” Honoria sneered as she opened an envelope and removed some pictures. Rhosyn wrinkled her nose when she saw the bodies strewn across some faraway crime scene. “But this just _stinks_ of revenant activity.”

Rhosyn gathered the pictures and started to flip through. The throats were perfectly punctured. Not a drop of blood was spilled. The faces looked frozen anywhere between terror and bliss. There were no footprints, even for the one found by a river, lying in the sand. Just paw prints. The local police must have been baffled to see a legend come to life.

“What class?” Rhosyn asked as she went through the photos once more. Honoria watched her for a long moment as she fiddled with another unlit cigar.

“A Class, at least. But I don’t want to risk a classification before I get some trusted eyes on the ground.” The Director pulled out some tickets. “I need you to head to Budapest to meet with Father Grisu and get whatever other information has.” Honoria’s cold eyes narrowed, indicating her foul mood. “He doesn’t seem confident in sending us the rest. Either it is too large, or the man just wants to make sure we take notice.”

A priest. Rhosyn didn’t like the idea. Ever since Whitby she had avoided churches and clergy like the plague. It was sometimes difficult, there was an ordained clergyperson working for MI13, but Mr. Wright had been sensitive to Rhosyn’s history and had given her the space she needed. The sight of the black cassock and white collar still sometimes brought the stench of rotten flesh.

“You leave for Brussels tonight.” Rhosyn frowned. She had been promised a day. The Director only shook her head. “I’m sorry but it was the only availability for a private cabin.” She held out the tickets to Rhosyn. “Sybil has your case upstairs when you leave as well as the travelers’ checks, a card, and a mobile.”

It was going to be interesting to say the least. Rhosyn took a breath as she organized the paperwork. Then she paused.

“Two tickets to the same place?” She asked. Honoria’s expression fell slightly. Rhosyn was suddenly much more cautious of the figure standing next to her. It had just been her and the Director speaking and she had almost forgotten the underlying source of her anxiety. The Director nodded and leaned back.

“You two will be going together.” Rhosyn’s face twisted too much to not be obvious. “It isn’t that I don’t trust you, Rhosyn, but if these killings are really the work of a revenant you will need an experienced hand.” The director looked to the second party, eyes sharp.

“Report back after you speak with Father Grisu.” The dismissal was clear. There would be no arguing the situation. Rhosyn picked up the file, her every movements radiating her displeasure and turned to leave. The other followed much more leisurely, sparing a slight bow to the Director.

“Good hunting.” Honoria murmured after them.


	2. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Train rides and taciturn co-workers makes life difficult for our hero. At least expensive trains come with expensive booze.

The train ride from Victoria Station to Brussels a short, casual sort of affair. They had been ordered to arrive separately. Rhosyn took the earlier ticket at 4:47. Her colleague would join her later in Brussels around 9.

 _After the sun is down,_ Rhosyn thought as she settled into her assigned seat. It had been three years since she had encountered her old customer in daylight but it did not mean she was ignorant of exactly why her customer had suddenly turned up in MI13. She hadn’t even been working there three months when they passed each other in the hall. It should have made sense, really. Her customer was the one that had shot that demonic priest in Whitby; why would it be strange to meet in the very bowels of the agency dedicated to the extermination of such creatures? As they passed she was given and small smile and a bow of the head. She only managed to stare, slack-jawed and surprised. Cerys, who had been giving her a tour of the lower levels, had to tug her away.

“You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Cerys had one of those faces that made it easy to talk.

“I… I know that person.” Rhosyn murmured, looking behind her. The hall was empty. Cerys hummed and nodded.

“Oh yea, you two met in Whitby. I heard it was really bloody.” Rhosyn shook her head and continued on with Cerys.

“No,” She corrected softly, staring at the clean tile as she walked. “We met before that. In the bookstore where I worked…” Rhosyn trailed off and Cerys began to watch her intently.

“I didn’t know that.” Cerys admitted quietly. Rhosyn wanted to turn, hunt down her customer and ask why. Why the bookstore, why her? Was it connected to her joining MI13? Or was it just coincidence. Cerys clearly knew more than she was letting on, but the ex-police officer was well trained and, despite her youth, she would not reveal anything else.

At one year Rhosyn gained enough clearance to view personnel files. It wasn’t a thrilling promotion. It had come on the heels of a death. Senior operative Conner Worwright was killed on a mission in Spain, making Rhosyn active Hunter on premises. This meant she was now included on the meeting the director called to deal with the revenant who had slain their coworker. The Director had been furious and the other members of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office called for a more experienced hand.

“I cannot authorize a new recruit being sent in to deal with a revenant that as already killed our most senior officer.”

“Mr. Barclay, I understand— “

“I don’t think you do, Honoria.” Rhosyn flinched as the Lord Commissioner interrupted. She couldn’t believe he had the gall to use the director’s first name. “This requires a special case. Ms. Dhent has not even had a solo mission yet, she can’t be sent out!”

The Director fold her fingers before her mouth and looked the Commissioner dead in the eye. “What makes you think I would send Dhent?” She asked slowly. Rhosyn had come to know Director Fairburn as a person of control. She watched with great interest as her boss carefully played this posturing game against the other Office administrators. The deputy Commissioner balked.

“All of your other operatives are away on assignment. Who would you send? Yourself?!” He barked a laugh at the idea but no one dared join in. Honoria, for her part, kept a cool expression as she reclined in her chair.

“Gentlemen, Director General,” She started. “I know a few of you are rather novel in your understanding of exactly what I do here. I also would be remiss in informing you that you do not, in fact, have the clearance necessary to know about all of my resources.” The Director watched the men’s faces twist uncomfortably. She was right, of course, very few had the level of security Director Fairburn did. In the dark of that subterranean meeting room, Rhosyn thought she felt a chill in the air.

“That being, Mr. Worwright was not my most senior member.” Rhosyn turned to look at the corner of the room behind her. She thought she saw movement…

“Director Fairburn,” The only higher-ranking official present, the Director General of MI5, spoke sternly. “I assume you are speaking of your domesticated revenant?”

Everyone in the room stared in a stunned silence. A kept revenant? Rhosyn had never heard of such a thing. She looked straight at Honoria. How could she keep something like that here, working for MI13?

“Yes.” Honoria answered simply. The entire boardroom broke out in various complaints and cries against the idea. Only the two Directors stayed silent, watching each other in some sort of silent battle. Eventually, The Director General raised her hand to silence the room.

“When will your revenant be dispatched?” Honoria looked mildly pleased.

“He is already on route to exterminate the problem. I expect I will be getting a report within the next few hours.”

The moment the meeting ended Rhosyn was racing to the file room. She needed to know who it was. Was it a thing kept below the building, chained and monstrous? Or was it more sinister? Something that could walk and talk and pass among the lot of them as entirely human. She needed to find out.

“Ms. Dhent.” She stopped abruptly when Director Fairburn called her. The Director undoubtedly knew her mission and quietly motioned the young operative to follow her.

“You can be very easy to read, Dhent.” The Director chided when they finally reached the private office. Rhosyn was fuming.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, voice hoarse. Honoria watched her for a moment, before going to sit and light a cigar. It burned nearly a quarter of the way through before she decided to answer the question.

“Like I said; not everyone has the security clearance.” She tapped off some ash and stuck the end back in her mouth. Rhosyn realized that, in being included in on the meeting, Honoria had shown her trust. It almost made Rhosyn feel guilty. Almost.

“Who is it?” She asked. Honoria’s eyes sparked.

“You both have met, in Whitby.”

* * *

 

The few hours she had to herself in Brussels, Rhosyn decided to spend relaxing in a nice little café a few blocks from the station. She imagined this would be one of her last opportunities to be alone and people watch casually. Travelling with a partner was not new to her but this assignment had no clear end date and Rhosyn planned on keeping the revenant in her sights at all times. It was exhausting just thinking about it.

So, she sat at a small table just outside the café, admiring the architecture and the people walking by. She always liked dinning in Western Europe. Each affair was slow and leisurely. The waiters weren’t pressured to rush customers through. And a small coffee and cake at the end of the meal was a nice way to end her alone time.

And end it did. Without so much as a wisp of sound, the dread of her evening appeared beside her table. It was like stepping back three years; that same face, that same smile, the dark wool and burgundy scarf. Her nervousness.

Rhosyn gripped the silver pointed cudgel she had fastened to her leg. It wasn’t the nervous fear one gets when waiting for a new person to arrive. It was born out of the knowledge that the very human looking creature before her was anything but. Still, she managed to sip her coffee casually, not even looking up.

“May I join you?” She felt like kicking the empty chair over. Her voice failed her and so she simply nodded, still refusing to look up. Her companion slid into the seat, reclined as was ever his style, and looked out onto the street.

“It is a beautiful night.” Rhosyn almost snorted into her coffee at the offhand comment. It was poignantly funny coming from a such a creature while starting such a mission. Again, she refused to comment and her companion turned to face her.

“I take it that you aren’t interested in any pleasantries.” That smirk stayed glued on and Rhosyn hated it. She finally set down her coffee and leaned back in her chair, putting as much distance between them as she could.

“Have you read the report?” She asked brusquely. A nod. Her eyes burned as she met that cool gaze again. “Then you understand the situation completely.”

Her colleague smiled and nodded again. “Yes.” Rhosyn took a loud breath and fiddled with her fork. The waiter came over to see if the new customer needed anything but was waved off.

“I understand if you aren’t— “

“Don’t” Rhosyn cut the sentence short, holding up her hand just in case she needed to catch the words and strangle them. “Don’t talk to me about it.” Her expression was tight and she could only look at the table. Her companion’s smile faded and again she was given a nod. They sat in silence for a long time, both directing their eyes away from the other.

Finally, the time had come. Rhosyn paid for her meal and her rising signaled her colleague to follow her back to the station. The Hunter made sure to keep her companion well within her line of sight as they walked, never too close and never too far and never at her back.

The tickets had been arranged a head of time and while it took the attendant a few minutes to pull up the right ones, they were eventually able to board the platform. Rhosyn only had one small suitcase and her pack. Her companion traveled just as light, with only a single piece of old leather luggage that looked like it came out of the early 1900’s. Everything matched, she supposed, the coat, the suit, the case. Perhaps that had just been a better memory.

It took Rhosyn a full minute to realize that it was not only her companion that reminded her of an old Victorian Photo. She looked at her ticket and looked up at the trained. _The Orient Express._ She felt her eye twitch. Wasn’t MI13 under a budget crisis? Since when did they have the funds to dump into a luxury train ride across the continent when there was a revenant to kill? Just as she stood on the platform, fuming and trying to figure out what exactly went wrong, the conductor gave the boarding call.

“All aboard! The Orient Express bounds for Budapest!”

Her companion was much less surprised by the situation and picked up both of their bags. Rhosyn stood stone stiff for another full minute before taking off after her bag.

“What is this?” She asked as she squeezed by excited passengers inside the train car. All of the beautiful wood work and filigree was lost on her as she tried to keep up with the movements of her companion.

“A train.” Such a smartass reply. She suddenly knew who was behind the change in transport.

“You did this?” She accused as her colleague looked up for the right cabin number. Rhosyn struggled to squeeze past a couple with too many too-large bags. It took some more clever maneuvering before she found him, now comfortably inside their cabin.

“We,” She emphasized the word harshly. “Are not here for a pleasure trip.” Her companion ignored her in favor of undoing his coat and scarf. The bags had already been stowed below the single bench seat. Rhosyn had to duck into the room as another mass of excited travelers pressed by. Suddenly, it felt very cramped and close. She didn’t like it.

“I called in a favor.” Her companion said casually. It was infuriating. She was supposed to be in charge of this assignment and it had all been upended by a nostalgic _priss_ who she should, by all rights, be killing on first sight. As said priss took a graceful seat on the bench, Rhosyn finally found her words.

“Listen closely because I will say it once.” Those dark eyes rested on her. “You, do not just get to call in favors to make this into what you want it to be. We are here to take care of that _thing_ that is slaughtering people.” She stepped much closer and leaned down into that downright listless face. “If you dare to pull something like this again I will send you right back to MI13 and continue myself.”

The creature gave her a slow blink. “We were assigned this together.” It was a bitter reminder. Rhosyn wouldn’t stand for it.

“If you interfere with this anymore, I _will_ send you back.” She then turned and stormed out of the cabin, slamming the door behind her.

The gall. The pure gall to make such a change. It was insulting and Rhosyn couldn’t help but worry about how Laurel would have to deal with the drain on the already thing funds. As it was, the train was already leaving Brussels and there was no way to exchange the tickets for a cheaper sleeper. Too enraged to even be near the cabin, Rhosyn sat alone in the dining car, having effectively scared off most of the other passengers with her radiating anger. Well, perhaps not all.

“Well hello there, miss.” Her enraged eyes flicked to the upstart who just sat down across from her. A cocky smirk split the person’s face. “My, my, what is a pretty thing like you doing here sittin’ all by yourself? Waiting for you beau?” Perhaps the southern charm had worked on others in the past but Rhosyn was not interested in even entertaining the rake who seemed to think it was service to invade her space.

“Beat it.” She hissed. The intruding person continued to smile and set down the big cowboy hat on the table.

“Ho, ho, now I didn’t mean to offend.” A hand was offered to her. “My name is Quincy, Quincy Morton.”

Rhosyn stared at the hand for a long moment before reaching out to grasp it. The trespasser visibly flinched when she crushed the hand in hers and gave it one, hard shake. She released the greasy thing and returned to staring out the window. All she had wanted was a moment to fume and she wanted to do it alone before she called Honoria about this new little development.

Of course, it’d be her luck that this faux cowboy would think it was a right to demand her attention when she clearly wasn’t interested. Pretentious entitled bastard. Still, Quincy Morton sat across from her, absolutely tickled.

“I didn’t catch your name.” Another attempt to lead her in conversation. Morton had no idea who he was dealing with. Rhosyn looked at him once more.

“I didn’t offer it. Now, if you don’t mind…” She looked at him pointedly. Quincy only shrugged, clearly nonplussed.

“I’m sorry miss, but this was the last seat.” Rhosyn looked around and saw that this was true. She made to get up and Quincy fumbled to stand

“I don’t mean to make you leave.” The oaf excused while blocking her way. “I’m only looking to make some new acquaintances and I thought you might have needed some company. I’m a single man after all, and you, a single lady and I haven’t met many Americans since I arrived…” Rhosyn made a face.

“So, you just thought you’d plop yourself down and entertain me, hm? How utterly charming.” Her voice dripped with venomous sarcasm. “I always love it when a big, strong man decides to just barge in and bug the living shit out of me.” Quincy fiddled with the brim of his hat, suddenly looking a little sheepish as she chewed him through. “Oh yes, I made such a nice target. A lady, alone. Poor her. Good thing you stepped in and ignored my obvious attempts a playing hard to get.” A few of the other passengers were staring but Rhosyn couldn’t find herself to care. Quincy had been the all of the wrong things at the wrong time and if she could light into that priss she’d light into this jerk. “Listen well, you pampered prick; I don’t need to talk to you. I don’t owe you in ounce of my time. So, kindly do the world a favor and the next time you see someone who doesn’t want to talk, drop the pick-up lines, shut the hell up and leave them alone.”

She left him gapping and stormed to the end of the car. To be frank, the man was an ass, and she didn’t care to waste her time hoping for him to lose interest. In lieu of risking other chatty train-goers, Rhosyn walked the cars all the way to the caboose. No one had ventured so far yet and she was relieved to finally find some open air and quiet. It was refreshing to get the cool night air into her lungs and under her clothes. It cleared her thoughts.

After a moment, she pulled out her mobile to dial Director Fairburn. However, her fingers paused over the buttons. It was late in London and Honoria would likely be getting ready for bed. Or working into the night. Either way, it would be an interruption. Rhosyn canned the idea and called the secretary’s number.

“Sybil?” Rhosyn waited through the slightly frantic questioning of the secretary before explaining her call. “Don’t wake the Director, I just want her notified so we can make sure this doesn’t become a bigger problem.” Rhosyn pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache come on. Sybil seemed to pick up on her tone and she paused.

“Dear, are you alright?”

It was tempting to let it out; her frustration, her fear, her complete and utter hatred of the situation. The words tickled the tip of Rhosyn’s tongue.

“I’m fine, just tired. I’ll ring when we get to Budapest. Goodnight.” She hung up, relinquishing herself to the noise of the train tracks and the emerging countryside. It was going to be a long, long journey.

* * *

 

Being the only person aware there was a bloodsucking revenant aboard the train, Rhosyn moved back towards the cabin like a woman walking towards the lions’ den. She passed Quincy, already busying himself with a young woman who looked far more interested in whatever dribble he was sputtering out. It made Rhosyn wrinkle her nose. She moved past him into the champagne car where single riders and couples sat and drank. It was bittersweet, she thought as she moved past people in the car. Another day, another situation, she would have loved to take such a beautiful train across the continent. But as it was, she felt trapped.

The cabin was empty which only made her panic more. She’d lost the damn creature. Uttering a curse, she ducked inside and checked under the now-made folding bunks. No monsters lurking under the bed or in the closet. Rhosyn emitted a repulsed sound. Her coat had even been hung up.

 _Director Fairburn wouldn’t send you on this mission if you had to spend your time babysitting_. Rhosyn had to talk herself down as she sat on the lower cot. It wouldn’t have been wise to send them both if she had to keep an eye out for her partner’s behavior. Besides, it wasn’t like it would be the first time. The clean-up in Spain had gone just as planned, they even managed to recover some of Worwright’s remains.

She had to trust Director Fairburn and trust that the reason they had been paired was for the good of the mission and not to increase her anxiety levels.

She spent the better part of the late evening getting prepared. All of her equipment was laid out on the cubby table, counted, and put away for cleaning. She laid out her clothes for the next day, the travel packet Sybil had put together with their contact’s information, hotel information and maps of Budapest pre-marked with locations where people went missing and bodies found. She then packed everything away and went to the lavatory at the end of the cart to shower.

12:47 and her companion had yet to return. Rhosyn wasn’t sure if it was better or not. She had been extremely cross earlier but now she just wanted to sleep. Was it better to sleep with the enemy or to not know where it was? Ultimately, she decided she would not wait up for her bunkmate to return and she climbed into the upper bunk, struggled with the sheets, and tried to sleep. Every jostle of the car or sound of footsteps brought her back into raw wakefulness but eventually she dosed off.

* * *

 

She was alone when she woke as well. It worried her, although she tried to ignore it as she dressed and headed to the breakfast car. Only a bare few hours of sleep were blessed upon her and breakfast had only just started. A few early birds were there and, to her surprise, so was her mysterious companion.

Sitting somewhere else was painfully tempted but Rhosyn forced herself forward to stand next to the empty seat across from her colleague. A Belgian paper parted them but it wasn’t enough to hide one from the other. She licked her lips.

“May I join you?” Her voice was raw from sleep. An elegant hand gestured to the empty seat before returning to hold the paper. Rhosyn slid into the seat, noticing for the first time how soft the fabric was. It was clear that her associate wasn’t yet in the mood to talk so she settled for watching the hilly countryside roll by.

Minutes went by. More people filed into the car, filling the space with laughter and happy noises of people on vacation. The pair stayed silent in their little corner of the car and waited.

“May I start you off with some coffee?” The waiter had a light smile. Rhosyn nodded, still not wanting to break the silence, and looked across the table. Her companion declined with a shake of the head.

“Very good. Breakfast with be served shortly.”

Rhosyn returned her gaze to the scenery. The sun had just broken over the foothills of the mountains. They must be in Germany, she realized. All around, rolling hills and countryside spanned the landscape, broken, here and there, by a small town or farm. It really was a beautiful way to travel.

“I didn’t mean to snap.” She started. Her companion gave no indication of having heard. Serves her right in a way. “I was harsh.” She admitted as she stared at the paper held between them. Just then, the server arrived with breakfast. It smelled delicious and Rhosyn was suddenly struck with hunger.

“Enjoy, Madame, monsieur.” The paper lowered as the attendant left and Rhosyn had to pull her eyes away from the food to meet the dark gaze leveled at her. It was the same gaze, deep and consuming. She had once found those eyes intelligent and a bright point in a miserably rainy day. Now, she searched for the telltale red to bleed through. Her fingers twitched towards her knife.

“You were right to.” Her companion conceded softly, retiring the paper and sitting a little more upright. “I should have informed you that I made a change. I apologize.” Sly thing, Rhosyn realized. Was guilting her such a pleasure? She resisted the urge to sigh.

“A truce then?” She asked. Her companion quirked a brow.

“Were we at war?”

It was a game, she realized. A game of words and unspoken meanings. They both knew so little about the other. She looked down at the food and picked up her napkin.

“I have not yet decided if it is war or just a border skirmish.” She declared aloofly while picking up her fork to try god-knows-what extravagance they served on this train. Her companion grinned.

“I shall mind my manners then.”

Just as she had tasted the delectable first bite, a familiar, grating buzz erupted in Rhosyn’s pocket. Quick as lightening, she removed the mobile and flicked it open.

“Hello?”

“ _PUT THAT WRETCH ON THE PHONE_!” It was unmistakable whom the call was intended and after the instant it took to regain her faculties, Rhosyn held the phone out across the table.

Crisp, gray linen gloves ghosted over her fingertips as the phone was removed. Rhosyn watched while spooning another mouthful of food as her colleague gingerly put phone to ear.

“Director.” It was like a cat’s purr and yet it did nothing to sooth the ferocity of the woman on the other end. Rhosyn listened and ate as the revenant was loudly chewed out for pulling such strings. Rhosyn almost felt sorry. Almost. If she hadn’t informed the Director it might have been her head on the block instead of the undead one. She preferred to keep in the Director’s good graces.

“ _Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”_ Rhosyn waited with baited breath. What was the reason their casual train trip had turned into a luxury experience? More importantly, would this come out of her paycheck? The figure across from her reclined slightly, narrowly avoiding the morning sun as it streamed through the window, and eyed the silverware.

“What is the bill?” It was an odd question. Honoria thought so and Rhosyn heard it. “What is the bill?” A moment of silence then a quiet mumble.

“ _That still doesn’t explain why you went around me to change trains!_ ” The anger was back and the phone practically shook. Her companion remained calm, almost smug.

“Director I never intended to go around you. I had Marion make the change on a credit a fellow owes me. You can’t claim that it has caused you any problems. The expenses are identical down to the penny and I must say the atmosphere is decidedly,” Those dark eyes slide to Rhosyn and she nearly choked. “ _Pleasant_.” Honoria was clearly not amused and without much preamble the phone was handled back. Rhosyn was careful not to touch the glove as she plucked it out of the air.

“Hello?” She ventured. The Director was growling.

“ _Don’t let that sorry excuse for an operative get away with anymore nonsense. He likes to push his boundaries._ ” So much for not babysitting. Rhosyn sighed and looked out the window again. It was too much to be caught between and angry voice and dusky eyes.

“I thought this was supposed to be easier,” She hissed quietly into the glass. Her companion could hear but the other diners couldn’t. “Now I not only need to watch out for the target but for my…” She eyed the figure across the table. “What do I even say when people ask?”

“ _Tell them he is your assistant for all I care!_ ” Honoria barked. “ _He will be useful when the hunt is on. He has the experience, the expertise, that no one else can provide. Use him to your advantage._ ” Honoria broke in a huff. “ _Just don’t let him play games. He is housebroken, but don’t mistake him for anything less than a monster._ ” Rhosyn eyed her companion who made a point to be plucking at the food but not really eating. It raised another question.

“What about blood?” Rhosyn asked. No reaction from across the table.

“ _He is well housebroken. Reward a good dog when he deserves it._ ” Rhosyn balked.

“You don’t mean—! “

“ _I mean track down the target and let him do the rest!”_ There was an audible snap somewhere on the other end. “ _I trust you to make this mission a success, Rhosyn. I don’t want to have to send in a clean-up crew because you can’t handle one fucking vampire._ ”

“There are two— “

The call ended abruptly and Rhosyn was slow to slip the phone back into her pocket. Her food wasn’t as appetizing any more. Across from her, her companion watched her carefully as she went through several thoughts in her head. When it looked like she settled on one, all attention was on her.

“You heard the boss.” She began with a weak laugh. Those dark eyes seemed to pity her.

“I am sorry.” The apology sounded genuine but Rhosyn waved it off. Sorry wasn’t going to get her anywhere today. A little diplomacy might.

“Never mind that,” She shook her head. “But I need you to answer a question for me.” Her companion made a welcoming gesture with each hand. Rhosyn fiddled with her fork.

“Do I call you Dracula or what?” She blurted. “I mean, I think it would earn us a few stares if I call you Count, if that is even what you are.” A stunned expression struck her counter-part’s face before it was transformed into a wide smile. Rhosyn got the feeling she was being laughed at and it made her frown all the more.

“Alastair will do.” Her companion reached across the table, into the sunlight, and plucked a crystal glass of sparkling water. “And you?”

Rhosyn straightened a little more and lifted her chin. “Rhosyn is fine.” Her companion nodded and toasted her.

“To a successful hunt.”

“Don’t you know it’s bad luck to toast with water?” Rhosyn chided but touched her glass to the offered one anyways. Luck had nothing to do with this. It was a matter of skill and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked/dislike/have a comment feel free to let me know. Kudos are appreciated as well! Don't forget to subscribe as I will be updated regularly now.


	3. Budapest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero arrives in Budapest and is met with a worrying sign.

Despite the few hours of tense sleep, Rhosyn was determined to get _something_ out of the train ride. This meant finding a cozy corner in the lounge car and watching the countryside fly past. Her brain was numb and she had practically managed to half-sleep all the way through Germany. Hunger drove her to the dining car for lunch and it was almost offensive how extravagant the food was. Her companion didn’t show for lunch and the thought of going to rouse her colleague was met by the memory that revenants don’t eat regular food. She sighed and rubbed at her eyes. She couldn’t let herself be fooled by the very human exterior.

Quincy managed not to invade her space for a second time, although he also dined alone across the car. He was perfectly in Rhosyn’s line of sight and it would have soured her mood if her meal hadn’t come at that exact moment. Rhosyn set into her meal with enthusiasm and even decided on taking her companions. It wouldn’t be missed.

The train stopped in Vienna after dinner and some passengers disembarked. Alastair had finally emerged when the bright sun had become nothing but a bright glow behind the alps. They had moved to the bar and sat facing each other, nursing their drinks.

“Are you sure you would not like something else?” Alastair swirled the wine in his glass and moved his gaze from the window to her own glass of sparkling water. Rhosyn drummed her fingers on her knee and met his gaze. The more she forced herself to look him directly in the eye, the less awkward she felt.

“No drinking on the job.” It wasn’t really a lie. She didn’t consider lunch to be on the job and had made excellent use of the complementary rosé. Just enough for a pleasant nap as they passed Munich.

Alastair let it drop and continued to sip the dark, impossibly hard-to-pronounce wine he had requested. At this rate, it would only be another three hours to Budapest. Rhosyn had already packed her bag and had the case file sitting on her lap, unopened, but ready.

That tight feeling of anxiety had begun to grip the insides of her chest. She often felt this when approaching the assignment zone. But she wasn’t thinking about that as much as the being that she had been paired with. Somehow, she felt that managing the employed revenant should have been part of basic training.

She was also curious. Now that the hostility, mostly her hostility, had died down, she found questions burning her tongue. She carefully directed her gaze to the window, staring just at the point where she could view Alastair’s reflection without making her intention obvious.

It was the same face. Nothing had changed from her memories of three years prior. No new lines, freckles, or even a difference in haircut or color. The same. Unchanging. Rhosyn had changed a lot in those three years and it was odd to be faced with old memories and an old face when so much had happened.

Change was good. She did not need to fear the creature before her as she had the priest. Even so, she was keenly aware of the silver tipped cudgel now hidden under her coat.

The pair continued to sit in silence as the train kicked into gear and began its last push towards Budapest. Rhosyn took to watching her companion’s reflection when the absence city lights turned the window into a rattling mirror.

There was laughter further back in the car. Quincy. It was irritating how attuned she had become to the offensive man. In the reflection of the window Rhosyn could see him sitting with some young women, laughing and speaking dramatically about some sort of adventure in the not-so-wild west. Rhosyn nearly snorted as they conversation began to float into her ears.

“And so, there I was, about to wrangle this bull. Now, this was one my father’s prized Longhorn bulls; he is just massive and—“

Rhosyn decided it was time to go over the details of their assignment in Budapest. She needed to set a few things in order and was curious to whether or not her companion would contribute any important information. Drowning out Quincy's bragging was just a plus. She unlatched the case file and folded out the hidden table.

“We should be arriving by nine.” Rhosyn began while pulling out the report from the Priest. Alastair remained relaxed but listened intently, his eyes fixed on her.

“I imagine it would be too late to go knocking on the church doors for Father Grisu.” Rhosyn looked up as she spoke. “I was going to go in the morning, do you want to come or…” She trailed off. Alastair set the wine down and shifted a little more to stretch his long legs.

“I am confident you can gather what you need from the good Father.”

Rhosyn felt her mouth twitch at his tone. Maybe sunlight wasn’t a good idea for him but she wouldn't mind making him trounce around in the middle of the day. She continued anyways. “Here are all of the places where victims have disappeared. Only three have been found, usually quite close to where they vanished.” Rhosyn pulled out a map. “But the disappearances are widespread. But,” She pulled out a pen and traced a line across the map. “I’ve noticed an underground line connecting most of the killings.” It cut straight through Budapest and across the Danube. “I’m guessing this is the preferred method of transportation.”

Alastair looked much more interested and leaned a little closer to the table. Those dark eyes traversed the map carefully before he reached out and took the pen from her hand.

“These places.” He murmured as he circled several areas near the line she had drawn. “Are the oldest cemeteries.” Rhosyn nodded.

“That means old crypts to hide in.”

“But no fresh bodies.” He finished. Alastair unfolded the map a little more and examined it closely. “The victims?” Rhosyn pulled out the file.

“Four have been recovered shortly after death. One is suspected to be linked but was so badly decomposed there is little flesh left to determine the cause of death.” Rhosyn passed the pictures over the small table and used her arm to shield them from any passersby. “Very clean marks on the throat here, and here.”

Alastair nodded and picked up a photo. “Judging by the timeline this is a practiced creature. Everything is by a schedule and it has all gone relatively unnoticed.” The picture had handed to her and Rhosyn frowned at the body. “I would imagine,” her companion continued. “That we are dealing with something much older than previously anticipated.”

“Vampire then?” Alastair nodded

An old vampire is a dangerous vampire. Furthermore, it wasn’t just some restless corpse gnawing wraith or a ghoul. Those creatures had comparatively simple desires. An old vampire was much more sophisticated. More powerful. More time to perfect the hunt. Rhosyn sat back as she thought about the situation. A revenant with enough power to feed on living victims and go unnoticed was nothing to scoff at. Usually younger vampires lurked around fresh graves or in places where people wouldn’t be missed. Usually they picked vulnerable people. The homeless, the cast out, the ill. People that society had spurned. But these victims were much more diverse. A man dressed for a night out with friends, two people coming home from work, one just out for a walk, another meeting a lover.

The train windows rattled and Rhosyn absently caught her glass before it could tip.

“We need to be smart about this.” Her eyes scoured the map, the marks of the bodies, the graveyard, subway. Her companion sipped elegantly as ever. The action caught Rhosyn’s eye.

“I need to know exactly what you bring to the table.” Her tone was hard as she crossed her arms and leaned back. Alastair gave no reaction except for the slight twitch of a brow. The wine drained away slowly and Rhosyn counted the seconds.

“What do you think, _Rhosyn_?”

It was a purr that carried her name. Laced with sorcery and the whispers of a thing long forgotten. The smell of seawater filled her nose along with the lingering taste of Shiraz. Out of the edges of her hearing she imagined the sounds of crashing waves. An farce. A trick. Rhosyn’s expression went stoney.

“Don’t fuck with me.” She cut through the illusion like a blade, shattering it with fire and salt and her own iron will. “You,” She shook her pen once at the creature across from her. “You, don’t fuck around with me. You don’t dare to pull that kind of trick with me. I don’t have the time or the patience to keep myself from staking you.” Her eyes burned and her companion stopped drinking to hold her stare.

“You got off lucky with this,” Rhosyn waved at the opulent carriage. “Do. Not. Push. Me.”

She abandoned her companion in the Champagne car.

* * *

For some, late nights in Budapest were a dream. A honeymooner’s delight. A well-deserved vacation. For Rhosyn, it was another reminder that she had gotten a mere three hours of sleep in the two days and was likely not to have a moment’s rest for the next twenty-four hours. And her shadow was tenacious. It followed her from the station all the way to the hotel.

Rhosyn sighed as she flopped face first into the crisp mattress. Bed and silence and no more train rattling. It was enough to make someone cry for the delight of it. But the moment was short lived. Her mobile called raucously, demanding to be answered. Rhosyn glared at the wall as she struggled to get the thing out of her pocket.

“Hello?”

“Dhent.”

“Director.” Rhosyn couldn’t keep the exhaustion out of her voice. The Director picked up on it immediately.

“Trouble again?”

“Why did you send him?” Rhosyn blurted as she rose and stalked to the window. Budapest was a glow in soft lights and beautiful stonework. It should have been pretty, Rhosyn thought.

Honoria sighed loudly. “Don’t think it is because I don’t trust you.” The Director assured. “This… this case has some red flags.”

Red flags. Rhosyn turned from the window to look at the tiny room. Her heart pounded. Her palms began to sweat, adding to the sticky feeling the traveling always gave her. “What haven't you told me? What isn’t in this file?” A million thoughts rushed through her mind. “Why did you have to send—“ Rhosyn stopped as she turned again and looked onto the street below. There, established below on the street, was the source of her turmoil. And he was chatting with someone.

“God damnit” She muttered while leaning out the window to get a better look. Could she drop the water bottle on him?

“Dhent!” The Director reproached. Rhosyn huffed and decided to wait on the dropping anything.

“He is downstairs making eyes at the hotel guests.” Rhosyn grumbled into the receiver. “I need to know what is going on. I need to know _exactly_ why you sent us together.”

There was a long silence. Then, “We have been keeping tabs on the situation for several months. Father Grisu” The Director practically growled the name. “May be a fanatic, but the evidence suggested something more serious than the usual revenant infestation. With Worwright gone and Cerys in Argentina, I didn’t want to send you in alone.”

Rhosyn leaned out the window a little more to make sure the two hotel guests were not followed inside. “So, you send me in with the very thing we are trying to kill? Look, Director, I thought I could deal with this but I can’t. That… I can’t lower my guard. I haven’t slept more than three hours and he is lurking outside looking for dinner!”

She stiffened as a pair of dark eyes turned up from the street below. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither looking to give ground on the other.

“He is dangerous.” Rhosyn murmured. Not eager to hold that treacherous gaze and speak to the Director, she began to pace the room. “Director, I need to send him back. I can deal with him and the case!”

“Dhent!” The Director barked. “I have been patient because this is your first time working together, but I will not have my orders questioned.” The words cut to the bone and Rhosyn quieted, moving her eyes up to stare out over the adjacent rooftops. She wasn’t a soldier by any means, but she knew who called the shots. The Director continued. “I understand you are concerned. However, you know I would not send you unless everything was in total control. Your enemy is prowling the streets of Budapest. Your ally stands at your side. They are not same. Do not mistake one for the other.

“Am I understood?”

Rhosyn swallowed. Her throat felt tight. The lights of the city blurred a little. “Yes Director.”

“Goodnight Dhent.”

The line went dead and Rhosyn exhaled slowly. She was stuck between a rock and mouthful of teeth. She didn’t trust that this would go as the Director had planned. There were too many unknowns and her partner was less likely to reveal anything than she was. Rhosyn slammed the window shut. It was her bloody luck.

Tomorrow she would set out alone and gather the information she needed. The sooner she found the source and stamped it out the better.

* * *

She didn’t wake until nine in the morning and missed the breakfast provided by the hotel. All the better, she thought. Her companion may be less alive than most but she couldn’t count on him making an appearance. They had gotten rooms on opposite floors and she would prefer to keep the distance at a maximum.

By ten she was out on the streets, map in hand, bludgeon strapped to her leg. Father Grisu’s church was on the other side of the river and she wanted to get a sense of the underground metro on her way. The underground was quiet so late in the morning. Rhosyn nearly slept through her stop.

“About time.” Father Grisu was a gruff, burly sort of person. He looked more like a boxer than a priest. He opened the parish door and led Rhosyn inside with a sour expression before looking back onto the street.

“Where is the hunter?” He asked. Rhosyn eyed him calmly.

“I am agent Dhent.” Her answer was met with a disgusted sneer.

“A woman? They send a woman?” The father seemed to be insulted by the idea that MI13 had sent someone so obviously unfit. Rhosyn would have been insulted if she gave a shit about what father Grisu thought.

“Your reports.” Rhosyn reminded him. He started grumbling in Hungarian as he led her to the back office.

“This is everything.” He dropped a heavy cardboard box on the already cluttered desk. Rhosyn eyed the files. All in Hungarian. She couldn’t read a lick of it. Rhosyn wondering if intake had even bothered to translate all of the material Father Grisu was sending and if she could get Marcus to pull them for her.

She carefully set the top most file aside and looked at the grumpy man. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been noticing.” She hoped he felt chatty.

“I already told your group.” Not feeling chatty. Rhosyn had to switch tactics.

“Tell me, Father, have you had any luck with the Bishop of Budapest? Or the Archbishop?” The man’s eyebrows managed to knot together even further.

“They do not wish to see what is before them.” He groused. Rhosyn nodded slowly and reached out to tap the table.

“And your fellow priests?”

“They do not believe me.” Grisu replied. Rhosyn leaned back in the wooden chair.

“Well, I believe you.” She watched the tightness around his eyes fade a bit. “I believe you have caught something very serious. I am glad you reported it to us.” Grisu rolled his shoulders a bit.

“Thank you.”

Rhosyn found her way in. She leaned forward, brushing her coat to the side to reveal the handle of her weapon. “We will take care of this. You have been doing much of the work, collecting reports, evidence, everything that would be overlooked. It takes a keen eye and a good heart.” Grisu relaxed a little more and met her gaze. “You know this city, its people, far better than a stranger could. If we want to be successful I need your help now.”

When Rhosyn first joined MI13 she did not intend or even consider becoming a field agent. She had wanted to know what had been hidden from her, she wanted to be aware of the threats she had faced in Whitby. But actually going out and killing them was an entirely different type of work. Rhosyn had no desire to be a part of that.

Akoni had recommended her for the position of Hunter, the slang of field agents.

“You’d do well.” Rhosyn stared at the letter of recommendation before her. It was odd that such a small piece of paper could have such an impact. Akoni leaned forward, linking her fingers together.

“I can’t.” Rhosyn started as she leaned away from the letter. “I’m not… I’m not that type of person.”

“That is where you are wrong, Rhosyn Dhent.” Akoni’s low voice grabbed Rhosyn’s attention. “You are exactly the type of person.”

Rhosyn made a face. “I’ve never killed anything bigger than a spider. What makes you think I can kill some flesh-eating ghoul?” She had been fine in records. It was monotonous work but it was low stress. The job of field agent was like that of Police, or EMTs or combat soldiers; you needed to have an adrenaline want. Akoni looked unconvinced at the excuse.

“You seem to think we seek violent people for this kind of work.” Rhosyn nodded. It was rather obvious if you were looking to physically battle the undead that sought to feast on your flesh. Akoni shook her head.

“Extermination requires violence. Hunting requires something more entirely.”

Rhosyn couldn’t resist the baited question. “What?”

Akoni smiled brightly. “Accept the recommendation and I will show you.”

Akoni was correct, of course, she often was. Hunting revenants needed something more than a penchant for violence. That was why there were no ex-combat officers or cops in MI13. A Hunter needed to be many more things. The killing blow was easy, it was the chase that was difficult.

And when dealing with the undead, it was often near-impossible to convince the living to go along with it. The Director once said Rhosyn had that special sort of talent of honesty and acumen that gave her enough credit with strangers to earn their confidence. And as she learned from shadowing Worwright, having allies while seeking the undead was a more powerful weapon than any blade.

She had won Father Grisu over and in return for getting a much clearer picture of the situation, she gave him some of the validation his church and brothers had denied. It was the least she could do.

* * *

It was just after noon and Rhosyn once again headed below ground to the subway system. She and Father Grisu had worked out several possible access points where a number of people were attacked. He had truly known the city well and had even gathered reports on people whom the police had little care for.

“Serena” Father Grisu sighed as he handed over the file. “She was murdered near Standionok Station. The police say it was a client.” Rhosyn eyed the file. This had never made it into her report file. “But it signs are there. Humans are sick but they don’t kill like that.”

Serena’s neck had been torn through to the spine below. Her lung had been half pulled out of her chest. It was graphic but it was all tooth and nail work.

“I’ll check it out. How long ago was she killed?” Father Grisu looked pained.

“Two weeks. I buried her myself. No one else would.”

Standionok Station was more rundown that the main line Rhosyn had traveled on her way to see Father Grisu. Half-finished construction projects broke up the platform with ugly barricades and signage. Rhosyn thought she caught the faint smell of sewage from somewhere down the tunnel.

She watched people coming and going for about an hour before she spotted something of interest. As she peered down the tunnel, she noticed a second tunnel, partly closed off by old fencing. It looked promising.

It was another hour before she dared make her way over. She timed each train precisely to make sure she wouldn’t get flattened by an oncoming train. Four minutes. Then she had to make sure no one saw her. She needed a lull in the crowd and when she found it she still had to kick herself into getting off the platform, avoiding the electric rail, and hurrying over to the abandoned tunnel.

The smell was worse in the tunnel. Rhosyn inhaled deeply, looking for the distinctive sign of partly rotten flesh. The deafening sounds of the train rushing behind her roared then replaced it all with the silence of a tomb.

She gripped her cudgel tightly as she walked the old track. It was littered with garbage and muck. She noticed a few dead rats strewn about, some fresh some… she shuddered and moved on. All the while she tested the air, looking for that particular sourness she had been trained to notice.

She rounded the corner and stopped abruptly. The floor was littered in animal carcasses and bones. Piles of garbage were pressed up against the sides of the tunnel, spilling over onto the service walk. It reeked of rotting filth and flesh and Rhosyn was suddenly so very glad she had missed breakfast.

“God.” She cursed as she poked another pile of rats with her bludgeon. Something had dumped them there. Rats didn’t just get dismembered and organize themselves into these neat, but gruesome piles. Ahead, she noticed the tunnel curve to the right, swallowed by shadow where the passing train lights couldn’t reach.

She adjusted her weapon a little more carefully and continued around the corner.

There it was, that stench. That sour, gut curdling smell that made her want to rip her nose off and burn it. A ghoul. Rhosyn was careful as she approached the edge of the tunnel curve. It would be resting now, but this far down she couldn’t take any chances.

Something clawed at her ankle and in a split-second, had pulled her down against broken gravel and into the darkness beyond.

* * *

It was a stroke of luck that she had noticed the service stairs at the back of the hotel. Luckier even was that the bell-staff had left the door unlocked. Rhosyn grimaced at the dark hand prints on the door handle. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t gotten enough alarmed looks coming back. No cab would stop for her and she couldn’t sit on the train for too long before one of the passengers stop staring long enough to call the police. She wasn’t about to go through the front lobby covered in blood, guts, muck and the stench of rotten corpse and burnt iron. But that was the extent of her luck because just when she managed to find a break in the hall traffic to get to her door, she realized she didn’t have her key.

“Damnit.” Just what she needed. She checked every pocket and proceeded to curse that ghoul once more. Silently, she dipped back into the stair well and made for the next floor.

“434, 435, 436…” This was her only chance at this point. Short of breaking in her own hotel door, at least, and she had carefully considered that option. Even though her decision was made, it took nearly a full minute for her to knock with the toe of her shoe.

The door opened and she locked eyes with the room’s inhabitant. She took the smallest pleasure in the way her companion’s eyebrows raised but it fell away when that slim, dangerous smile appeared.

“You look as though you’ve had a successful hunt.” He commented. Rhosyn wasn’t in the mood for being mocked. She strode past and started to toe off her grimy shoes.

“I lost my key.” Alastair closed the door softly behind her.

“I’ll get you another.” He offered. Rhosyn stared hard at her filthy shoes and wondered if they could be saved.

“They won’t give you one, we didn’t check in together.” Her colleague smirked and straightened his jacket.

“I don’t expect that to be a problem.”

His words caught her attention and she turned to look up, knowing she was covered from head to toe in unmentionable things and smells.

“You don’t get to play hypnotist with the staff or guests.” She growled lowly. Alastair sighed once and moved away from the door, hands in his pockets as he met her gaze.

“I was merely suggesting I charm them.” He explained gently. Rhosyn snorted.

“Your version of charm is manipulation.” He shrugged and went further into the room. Rhosyn set about removing her coat and socks, carefully tucking everything together to bring into the bathroom.

“I’m going to clean up, then we need to talk about our plan.” She didn’t feel the least bit sorry for taking over his room. It was the least he could do after she did the literal dirty work. Alastair nodded and sat on the edge of the bed, looking all too at ease for her liking. She had just killed a revenant after all. He looked at her as if she had just squashed a particularly nasty bug.

“Shall I wait outside?” He asked as she unhooked her cudgel. Rhosyn eyed him for a long minute.

“No, stay here.” She rummaged through the inner pocket of her coat and dropped out the file packet that had miraculously only managed getting bent in the fight. She shook some dirt off of the cover and dropped it on the dresser. “Notes from Father Grisu.”

Alastair stood and picked up the packet. He flipped through it idly before nodding.

“I’ll be on the balcony.” He said. Rhosyn watched him go before she disappeared into the bathroom.

It took well over an hour to scrub all of her clothes clean. While Rhosyn was eager to get a start on the new information, she couldn’t go trapesing through Budapest in just her underwear. That said she wasn’t sure her coat could be saved without a little more heavy-duty cleaning. Somehow, she didn’t feel keen on explaining to the hotel dry cleaning staff how she got covered in such massive bloodstains.

When she emerged from the bathroom she was not expected to find a change of clothes set out on the dresser. She eyed the door to the balcony where just the edge of her colleague’s shoulder peeked around the edge of the sliding door.

Dry clothes were better than stained sopping wet ones. She took them back in, hung up the last of her salvageable items, and got dressed.

“What do you think?” She asked as she came out onto the balcony and sat at the tiny table. Alastair had the file open and had even begun to work on some notes. Rhosyn was surprised to say the least.

“I think MI13’s intake department is lacking in qualified people.” He sneered as he set the missing and dead reports down. “This should have been included with our account.”

Rhosyn pulled her leg across her knee to rub at her sore ankle. The disinfectant made her skin itch. “I will call later about that.” Alastair watched her for a moment before shutting the file and relaxing into the chair.

“Have you eaten?”

Rhosyn frowned. “This really isn’t the ti—“ She stopped as her stomach protested loudly. Alastair was polite enough to stifled his laugh. Rhosyn looked out onto the city and thought about her choices. The gnawing demand of two missed meals had hit her hard and fast. Three things were not to be neglected on a mission: the body, the mind, and the blade. Rhosyn growled and stalked back into the room, her companion hot on her heels.

“Food, file, plan of attack.” She declared as she tested her still damp shoes. Just as she opened the door, she found something dark and heavy held before her. Alastair smiled a little more softly and she took the coat without a word and strode into the hall.

“What do you feel like?”

Rhosyn eyed the stairs and decided on taking the elevator. “Anything that isn’t bloody.”

* * *

 

It was nearly 3 am when she finally got her new key and made it back to her room. No longer distracted by hunger and the nauseating after-smell of ghoul, her exhaustion rolled over her like a wave. She dropped her mostly dry clothes on the desk chair and flipped open her phone. At least it had survived the tunnel.

“Director.” She could hear Honoria yawn.

“Dhent, do you know what time it is?”

Rhosyn fumed a little. Time? She bit her tongue and looked out her window. “I’d apologize but this is important. I spoke with Father Grisu. Intake messed up the reports. We are missing nearly thirty casefiles.”

Honoria paused. “I’ll speak with intake in the morning. What did you find?” Rhosyn marched her room slowly.

“A ghoul in an abandoned subway tunnel. I dealt with it today but it isn’t the source of the killings.”

“What are you thinking?”

Rhosyn took a long, deep breath. “Alastair and I believe there is something more than just an old revenant. That ghoul had been placed there. It was being fed.”

Honoria was very quiet. “I need you to be extremely careful, Rhosyn. I need you and Alastair to stick close. If that ghoul was being kept, I have little doubt that we are dealing with something far more than a single vampire.”

“Are you thinking a swarm?”

“It is possible. There hasn’t been one in over a century. If that is the case I imagine the head vampire is much more powerful than we anticipated.” Honoria grumbled in audibly. “How many files are we missing.”

“Father Grisu gave my thirty dead, five missing.”

“Bloody hell.” Honoria cursed. “Rhosyn, I will be sending you a new red file immediately. Once you get it, burn the blue one.

Rhosyn stilled. It was code. Honoria was sending her a new mobile. Was someone else listening in? Rhosyn hadn’t made a point of learning the particulars of British military politics but she knew things were tense between the Director and the elected officials. What would it mean if there was a breach of trust during a mission?

“Of course, Director, thank you.”

“Keep me posted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't forget to kudos/comments/subscribe.


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